


palingenesis

by Tod der Fata Morgana (AlleyWalk_writes)



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons and Exorcists, Alternate Universe - Fantasy setting, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Dimension Travel, Discrimination, Dream Sequences, F/F, F/M, Gen, Genderfluid Character, M/M, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Time Travel, Trans Character, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Worldbuilding, everyone's gay as fuck, totalitarian government
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-01 07:04:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17862626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlleyWalk_writes/pseuds/Tod%20der%20Fata%20Morgana
Summary: If you could go back in time, back to the beginning, back to the start of it all, why not go all out?Why not changeeverything?It might be jumping the gun a little, but if Allen is anything at all, he is reckless, and willing to do just about anything if it means his friends will come out of it alive, this time.But Allen's presence creates ripples, and those ripples become waves. And then suddenly with just a little bit of future intel from Allen about the Noah, the Order is on a manhunt, sending every Exorcist in a team of pairs on a hunt to either capture or kill their assigned Noah.And Allen's and Kanda's mission?Tyki Mikk.Allen really should have learned to keep his mouth shut by now.





	1. The Beginning: The Masquerade Mission

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, people!
> 
> So, don't worry about the Lenalee/Miranda thing. It's queerplatonic, so other than being really close friends, there won't be any severely underage stuff in here. :/
> 
> Also, just a heads up, this Allen may appear OOC, however this is not the case. His past traumas and experiences have shaped him into the person he is today, so, while he'll think differently on the inside, he'll still act the same as in canon on the outside.
> 
> Anyway, got some trigger warnings for y'all!
> 
> TW violence, gore, injury, injury treatment, d*press*on, w*r, pov*rty, PTSD, fl*shb*cks, minor h*lluc*nati*ns(hearing and smell), discussion of OC character death, dystopian society, slight su*c*de ideation, body horror-ish stuff. 
> 
> Tell me if you see anything else that I missed, and I'll add it up there as soon as I can!
> 
> Have fun! 
> 
> Meet you down below! :)
> 
> Edit: Edited 2/25/19 to take out that unneeded first scene.

 

_palingenesis • new birth; reincarnation; second creation_

 

* * *

 

Kanda Yuu took a deep breath of the sweat and stink of the Shanties, the muck and rain-filled streets cobbled together like a poorly thought out piece of machinery. Lean tos and broken down shacks leaned against slightly less dilapidated houses, meandering down the sides of the street, the wood waterlogged from the recent rain. A river that the Divine Church dumps all of it’s sewage in runs at the edge of the city. Kanda scowled. Typical.

Running his hands through his petal-like hair, Kanda shook his head to clear his thoughts, scowling in irritation.

Because right at this moment, Kanda was irritated. He was stuck in the worst damn part of the city chasing down a local legend that was more ghost than rumor, it had rained yesterday night while he was trying to track him down, and as far as he was concerned, it was all this “Masquerade” bastard’s fault.

The Black Order had heard rumor about him on the streets. A rogue Exorcist called “Masquerade”, lauded as the people's Exorcist, who patrolled the places the Black Order wouldn't.

(Of course, it was more like _couldn't_ , as the Exorcists were under orders not to patrol the Shanties until the people living there, 'supplied the allotted resources’. Even Kanda could see that was complete bullshit.)

There were all sorts of unbelievable rumors about him. That he saved nearly ever person he came across. That he could see Akuma's souls, and mourned every life that he couldn’t save. That he shielded people from Akuma bullets with his own body in order to save them.

Complete bullshit, basically. Most likely borne from too much gossip, too little sense, and an unhealthy amount of hero worship.

Nobody was that self-sacrificing. It was practically suicidal.

Though, if it were true, he would become a great asset to the Order, depending on if he survived that long.

It almost made Kanda wish he wouldn't find him.

As if to negate Kanda's wish, a flare of an unfamiliar Innocence signature popped up from about thirty-four metres away. Kanda's advanced hearing heard a large crash followed by an explosion, the crackle of magic humming against his skin, and then a scream split the air.

Dimming the light that he naturally emitted as much as he could, Kanda took off running towards where he sensed the unfamiliar signature, hopping from roof to roof in a blur of speed before coming upon the scene.

The scene was complete chaos. The explosion had blown apart two houses, smoking and burning bits of debris scattered or sticking up from the ground. The ground was blackened and had a small incline of earth blown out of the ground with bits of dirt scattered everywhere. Smoke and dust filled the air, making it hard to see and harder to breathe, Kanda’s lungs burned from the smoke, his eyes achy and watering.

Che.

Annoying.

Off to the side away from most of the smoke, there were four civilians huddled behind a glowing blue-grey dome, about medium sized he’d say, so the caster either has a good sized magical core, though not enough to be considered powerful, or they’re not showing their true hand.

Che. Better than having no magic at all.

Kanda could sense the fight raging on somewhere among the smoke and debris, the Innocence in perfect synchrony with it’s partner, but he dismissed it as unimportant for now and went to check the civilians for injuries.

He jumped off the roof of the building, landing with ease of long practice. Reaching over to grab Mugen’s hilt in case he needed to make a quick draw, he picked his way through the dirt and debris and approached the dome.

He didn’t try to touch it, as he recognized it from Lenalee’s magic. It was a Soul Name produced shield, something directed by the caster’s intent and powered by both the caster’s and the Named’s willpower. The magic he felt emanating from the dome was powerful enough to make his teeth buzz and his curse ache, crawling under his skin like thousands of ants. Judging by that, he’d say there was enough willpower between the two of them that if he tried touching it, it would knock him back a fair distance, as well as try it’s best to burn him to a crisp.

Well, others have tried harder to kill him.

Still, he doesn’t try touching it. He wasn’t an idiot.

“Is everyone alright?” He asked the civilians.

A girl with red hair and piercing grey eyes holding on tight to a girl wearing an Afghan looked at him. A light bulb seemed to go off in her head as she glanced at Mugen.

“You're taking him away, aren't you?” she said lowly, accusingly. The girl with golden brown skin wearing a red and black hijab stopped resting her head into the crook of the redhead’s neck to look at him calculatingly. The Japanese man wearing way too many rainbow beads eyes widened.

Kanda nodded, grave. There was no point in lying.

Her eyes narrowed. “I hope you're happy. You're taking one of the only good things left out of this place.”

Kanda smiled bitterly.

_I'm never happy._

“Come out, come out, wherever you are Exorcist~! It’s Suppertime!” The Akuma taunted in a saccharine voice, it’s voice booming and echoing with the promise of the void. Well, at least it wasn’t a Feral. Those ones tended to be unpredictable.

“Then where’s dinner?” A male voice asked, as if actually curious. Then the Akuma screeched in agony, it’s bird-like screech overlayed with millions of other voices.

 **“Right** **_here!”_ ** The Akuma growled, and the dance resumed a more furious tempo. Even if Kanda couldn’t see it, he could sense the Akuma’s rage and hunger. He hated the ones that actually ate people. Along with the bad press reviews, even if it was just one bite, the Akuma virus would spread from the wound and into the rest of the body, turning them to dust, though at a slightly slower rate than Akuma bullets, most likely because blood was more infective than saliva.

Ever since the war was revealed, some of the Exorcists, especially the Finders, began hoping that they could bring their dead comrades home in something more than urns disguised as coffins. That, now that the war was out in the open, the Earl would feel no reason to hide, and would let them bring their dead comrades home.

But he didn’t.

The Earl made a mockery of their efforts, by turning everyone who fought, everyone who knew, everyone who wished for a world without war, into cremains.

Everyone turned to dust, in the end.

(It was a foolish hope, Kanda had thought, to think the Earl cared about what the world wanted).

“Are any of you hurt?” Kanda repeated. They were really trying his patience.

He looked them over and saw a few scrapes and bruises, that was until he saw the redhead’s right arm. It had been partially covered by the girl with dark hair and eyes and deep brown skin, but now he saw it clearly. It had been severed at the shoulder, and Kanda frowned.

Who or what could have done that?

“What happened to your arm?” Kanda asked with a frown.

The redhead glared, grey eyes flashing. “None of your business!”

The dark eyed girl put a hand on her unhurt shoulder. The redhead calmed. The dark eyed girl looked at Kanda and said, “It is nothing of import. She will be fine.”

Kanda huffed. “Whatever.”

Looking closely, he saw some sort of bandaging around the area that reminded him oddly of spiderweb, and there was hardly any blood compared to what he’d seen with field amputations, so that was good.

Shrugging it off for now, he decided to take them in for questioning later.

The fourth civilian seemed to have caught on to Kanda’s thought processes. His sharp green eyes evaluated Kanda coldly for a moment. And then he winked, tossing back his long curly locks with a flirtatious smirk.

Kanda was so thrown by the action that when he caught the flash of steel in the man’s hand as he darted forwards, he had a second’s delayed reaction. That second was all the man needed to plunge the knife into the beaded man’s stomach, and then he turned on his heels, Kanda’s katana coming down on the shield straight over his head. It screeched against the top of the shield, and then Kanda got the feeling of being punched in the gut while a burning pain ran through him.

He blinked, suddenly awake when he hadn’t fallen asleep, his curse burning liquid fire through his veins. He coughed, sitting up, to spot the criminal wonder hightailing it down an alleyway. Snatching Mugen off of the ground, he stumbled to his feet and gave chase.

Criminal Wonder must not know this side of town very well, because he gets himself cornered in a dead end. He turned, snarl already on his face. Kanda heard the scrape of claws on cobblestone, and then the man’s form shifts and molds like clay, his glamour dropping to reveal a huge Nemean Lion, lithe body prowling closer with a rumbling growl low in his throat, and Kanda cursed under his breath.

Most people forget how big lions are. Bigger than a six foot man is tall length wise, and everything is made of lithe muscle and killer instincts. And what Kanda is dealing with isn’t any ordinary lion. No, it’s a fucking _Nemean Lion_ , know in Greek Mythology for having an impenetrable pelt.

Of course, in the real world, it’s a bit different. An Innocence may be able to take down an Akuma, but when it came to something like this, only the strongest Innocence users, General level or very close to it, could take the heat.

Last time Kanda got an evaluation he was at 89% synchronization, and he had avoided getting evaluated ever since because he could feel he and Mugen getting closer to General level. Like hell he wanted that position.

The only problem with that was that now, he didn’t know for sure if Mugen was strong enough to pierce that hide.

Well, only one way to find out.

Kanda bared his sword and dashed forward. They clashed, the Criminal Wonder taking a swipe at him with a huge forepaw, claws catching on his cloak as he stepped to the side, Mugen flashing downward to slash at his flank.

It screeched against his hide like it was made of steel, sparks flying. And then, all 21 tons of Nemean Lion twisted around and pinned Kanda to the ground, knocking the breath out of him until he couldn’t breathe, grinding his face into the muck.

Kanda’s anger lit, and the natural light that surrounded his species flared as bright as a flash bomb.

The Criminal Wonder yowled in pain, rearing up off of Kanda. Kanda twisted around onto his back, plan clicking into place, and then he’s reared up off the ground and plunged his katana through the lion’s mouth and up into his brain, Mugen breaking through the back of his skull and into open air.

A fountain of blood and brain matter spilled down his arms and splattered his face and shoulders, running down the front of his uniform. The lion groaned, and his eyes rolled back into his head, and his breathing slowed to the point where his flanks barely moved in the act of breathing.

In a coma. Good.

Kanda braced his foot against Criminal Wonder’s skull and pulled Mugen free, the blade pulling free easily, covered in gore. Kanda gave it a quick clean with his cleaning kit, though the sword still felt the slightest bit irritated even after that. “Later, I promise.” Kanda said, knowing he’s just hallucinating, feeling things from an object of all things, but it’s not like it matters. He thought he felt a hint of exasperation.

Shaking his head, he reached into his pack and pulled out a silver knife, nearly as long as his forearm. He stuck it up the pathway he made into Criminal Wonder’s skull, knowing the silver will keep the cut from healing as well as cause him severe to moderate pain.

…At least it’s not Wolfsbane.

Sheathing Mugen and running back to the scene, he dismissed the two civilian’s horrified eyes at his appearance and surveyed the beads man. Except…

“You pulled the knife out?! You idiots!”

“We needed to put pressure on it!” The redhead defended.

“But then it bled more. Quite profusely.” The muslim girl said.

Kanda cursed profoundly in Japanese.

“Let me see.” He ordered.

The redhead looked like she was about to protest on principle, but the dark eyed girl simply lifted up their makeshift bandage, the redhead’s pants, and pushed him out of the shielding so Kanda could access the wound.

Kanda bit down on his wrist, making sure it was deep, and turned his wrist over, the green and red blood falling directly onto the wound.

Come on, please work.

There was a sizzling noise, and the stab wound on the man’s stomach started to steam, the flesh knitting itself back together. When it was finished there was only one scar; the faint impression of Kanda’s curse mark, the same one on Marie’s forehead.

The redhead looked on with wide eyes while the dark eyed girl simply watched with an air as if this was to be expected.

Kanda met their eyes. “You didn’t see that.” He said warningly. The redhead snorted while the dark eyed girl just smiled.

Kanda was just shoving the beaded man back into the shield when the fight got a little too close for comfort.

The Akuma came flying out of the dust and smoke, It’s black wings dripping black tar, multitudes of eyes that weeped black ichor moving and twisting grotesquely, dotted all over it’s large raven-like body. “Come, little Exorcist~! Come play a game!” The raven cawed, the one lone eye on it’s forehead pulsing, red pupil searching through the smoke.

Kanda drew Mugen and activated it quickly, feeling it hum with anticipation as he sharpened his mind down to a pinpoint and reached towards his core. The energy burned through his veins, and he slashed his sword, insects powered by nightmares themselves fading into existence, flying straight toward the Akuma, their sharp snouts leaving gouges in it’s back and damaging one of its wings before disappearing.

One of the Akuma’s eyes has focused on him. “Oh? Have you come to play? How _nice_!” It lifted its wings and shot dozens of razor sharp feathers in his direction. Kanda darted to the side, and when a feather came his way, he sliced it in half.

A bolt of destructive blue-grey magic suddenly pierced through the Akuma’s breast, and it screeched. Kanda noticed it was already missing a leg and part of it’s head.

Masquerade stepped through the smoke. “I’m afraid I’m not very fond of games.” He said, white cloak flaring behind him, black and gold half mask over his face, four inch long metallic claws crackling with magic.

Masquerade tilted his head. “Where is your core?” He asked, sounding honestly curious. “It’s not in your chest. That’s rather impressive.”

Kanda drew Mugen and narrowed his eyes. What was this guy’s angle, complimenting the Akuma?

The Akuma puffed up like a peacock, cackling with glee. “It’s impossible, you’ll never find it! It’s unseeable!”

Masquerade’s lips quirked. “Is that so.”

The next sequence of events only made sense to Kanda later, after the fight.

For now, he saw Masquerade’s left eye go black and red, and then he looked up.

“Do you mind, Miss?” He asked the thin air above the Akuma. _What?_ Kanda thought he heard something, the whisper of the wind maybe, and Masquerade’s face softened. “Thank you.”

Masquerade then jumped above the Akuma, standing on its head for balance. _What the hell is he thinking?!_ But then his claw slashed down into thin air, and the Akuma let out a blood curdling scream. A rotted Akuma core phased into view, slashed to pieces, dropping to the ground.

The Akuma dropped, losing most of its being with the loss of its core, the soul tethered to it slowly leaving its body. Masquerade finished it off quickly, and then deactivated his Innocence.

Kanda could see his face for the first time, and it’s infuriating to realize that Masquerade, the ghost of his nightmares, was a puny little teenager. He couldn’t be, what, fourteen? And _this_ was the guy who the Black Order had had him hunting down for months on end, following lead after lead?

He was just a little Beansprout!

Still. Orders were orders.

He stepped forward, sheathing his sword. “Masquerade, I have direct orders from Central to take you in. Please come quietly.” Please don’t come quietly so I can beat your face in.

Masquerade nodded. “Alright. But before I go, would you like to see her?”

Kanda snorted. “See who?”

Masquerade smiled. “The Akuma’s soul.”

Kanda scoffed and was about to cuff him right there and let Central deal with his ass, when Masquerade put a hand on his shoulder.

Kanda was suddenly flooded with feelings that weren’t his, feelings of sadness and anger and guilt.

He looked up and instantly wanted to puke.

This… thing, whatever it was, was… rotted to the core. The feelings it gave off made him ill with feelings of nausea and clinging forebodings of hopelessness, a sense of being trapped, of too little space around him. The only thing left that wasn’t eaten away was a weary half image of an old woman’s face.

“Hello,” she said, sounding tired and sad. “My name’s Ariel.”

Masquerade smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Ariel.” His smile softened. “Is there anything you want to say, before you go?”

“Oh, well…” Ariel seemed to stumble for a moment. “It was my fault. I always smoked, no matter what Daryl said. And then, the cancer… we caught it too late.”

Masquerade’s face softened. “I’m sorry.” He smiled and reached his hand out to her, “please have peace in the afterlife.”

“Thank you.” The soul said as it floated up, fading away with what looked like a relieved smile, tears running down what was left of her face before it broke apart with that small, thankful smile still on her face.

Kanda recognized it.

Kanda jerked his face down, glaring. He rubbed at his mouth to try to get rid of the phantom feelings of that smile, that fucking smile. He ran his hands through his ponytail, the touch on his petals grounding. He looked up at Masquerade, about to snap at him, only to see he wasn’t even paying attention to him. He was patting his pockets, like he had lost something. His brows were furrowed.

“Shit. Timcanpy, you better not have eaten it, or I swear.” Masquerade threatened. There was an insulted “grah!” from somewhere near Masquerade, and then a golden ball came flying out of his sleeve holding a letter in it’s jaws. “Oh,” Masquerade said, sheepish. “Sorry, Tim. If you could fly that over to him for me?” The golden golem huffed if it’s possible to huff without a nose, turning around and smacking Masquerade on the head with its tail in a fit of vengefulness, and flew over to Kanda, landing on his palm and depositing the letter into his hand with a pleased “grah!”

Kanda quirked an eyebrow. He’d never met a golem with this much personality. Something about that pinged in his memory, but he focused on the letter, nodding to the golem in thanks and turning it over to read the address, the golem going off back to it’s master.

_To: Head of the European Branch; Komui Lee_

_From: General Cross Marian_

 Kanda cursed to himself. So he was Cross’s apprentice. No wonder he hadn’t been able to keep track of him. Cross Marian was practically untraceable, and if his apprentice had picked up even half his habits…

Well.

Kanda eyed Masquerade warily.

And not to mention this suspicious ass letter. He couldn’t open it; it had a General’s seal and everything, which meant it could only go to a Branch head or the person it was addressed to.

But General’s seals meant big news, and big news meant bad business for the Exorcists.

Kanda glared at the letter, as if just by his glare he could develop laser vision and fix this problem before it even began.

Kanda sighed. Pulling out his golem, he made a quick call to Headquarters to pick up the civilians and the Criminal Wonder for questioning, reporting that one of the civilians needed serious medical attention. The Beansprout was over by the civilians, taking down the shield and doing who knows what else with them.

Once the call was finished, Beansprout headed back over towards Kanda, Timcanpy doing acrobatic loops above his head to amuse itself. Che. At least he had some sense in that head full of cotton.

“Come on, Beansprout. Let’s head back to HQ.” He said, and started walking, not bothering to shorten his stride for the smaller boy.

“The name is Allen!” The white haired boy objected, and Kanda looked back to smirk at him.

“So? Hurry up Beansprout. And pick up the pace. If you get left behind it’s your own damn fault.”

“I’ll show you Beansprout.” He heard the Beansprout mutter. But he picked up the pace to match his stride to Kanda’s, nearly trotting to keep up. Timcanpy followed, doing ever circuitous routes around them, watchful.

Kanda smirked. “Hope you can keep up.” He said, as he jumped up onto the roof. All the ‘sprout did was huff and jump up beside him, however. The corner of Kanda’s lip turned down. At least he wasn’t completely useless.

“Keep up, ‘sprout. It’s a long way to HQ.” Kanda said, jumping to the next roof.

The ‘sprout snorted in disdain. “As if you could beat me!” He said, jumping three roofs in quick succession, not stopping to wait for Kanda. Timcanpy “graahed” in amusement.

Kand smirked.

So that’s how it was.

(In the end, by long experience roof hopping in this part of town, as well as an advantage in acrobatics and a lighter body weight that allowed the precariously balanced roofs to tolerate his stunts, Allen beats Kanda by a narrow margin).

(Kanda couldn’t be more pissed).

 

* * *

 

Komui Lee sat at his desk, drinking his habitual cup of coffee. Komui grimaced at the taste. He preferred cream and two sugars; currently they were out of both in the break room, and all of the scientists were either too tired or too lazy to restock.

(And he swore on the bunny mug that Lenalee had gave him for his birthday that some of that sugar had just up and disappeared. He'd be convinced someone was hoarding it if he hadn't checked everyone's work spaces in a fit of sleep deprived paranoia).

He would probably need to make another emergency call to one of the Exorcists again. But he could let it wait for awhile longer. They already had too many burdens on their shoulders without adding one more.

“Brother!” Lenalee strode into his office, a serious look on her face.

“Lenalee? What's wrong?” What's got her so upset? Her emotions were a roiling pit of fear and stress, and he sensed an odd anticipation from her, half determination and half dread, that he only felt from her before she went off on a mission.

“Kanda's back from his mission. He says he's got a new Exorcist in need of evaluation and a letter of high importance.”

Komui frowned in thought, eyes narrowing. As he recalled, Kanda had landed the Masquerade mission, and had been in and out of the Order looking for him for more than half a year.

Respect for Kanda's strength in battle had been dropped quickly for disdain for his brains and overall attitude throughout Kanda's time with the Masquerade mission, as most picked up the notion that if Kanda couldn't track down one measly Exorcist, he must be lacking in the brains department. It didn't help that Kanda's overall attitude hid his perceptive and analytical mind.

People saw what they wanted to see, and Kanda had never exactly set out to make any friends. In fact, he'd done quite the opposite.

But if he'd actually brought Masquerade in, well, Komui would be delighted to meet him.

But that letter.

“Of high importance,” Lenalee had said. He puzzled over it, tapping a finger on his chin in thought.

Of high importance…

It slotted into place with a detail that had been plaguing Kanda for months, and he laughed, before he felt a grim foreboding.

It looked like Cross had finally taken an apprentice.

But now, what was his game?

And what did it mean for Lenalee and the other Exorcists?

 

* * *

 

The Black Order Headquarter doors swung open for them both. Allen and Kanda strode in, met by a corridor with gleaming white walls, ceilings, and floors, with a long red carpet underneath their feet. They walked out of the corridor and into an entrance hall. The ceilings spread high overhead, a mosaic of the Black Order crest spreading across the ceiling. Allen shivered with the weight of invisible eyes.

The entrance hall widened into a good sized room, on one side of the room was a well worn couch, on the other a comfortable looking bed that must be used for any Exorcists that came in too tired or too injured to move after a battle, judging by the stretcher stored at the head of the bed. In the middle of the room was an ornate end table with heaps of food that looked either to be replaced regularly with fresh food or under a stasis spell. The stasis spell would be much more efficient, and less wasteful as well considering the times they lived in; but he wouldn’t put it past Komui to pull out all stops for the Exorcists to be able to have fresh food after a mission.

Allen could sense eight active Innocences in the building, some on the ground floor and some on the second, two with unfamiliar signatures. Though one felt as if he should recognize it, or at least, the person attached to it. There was also the faint signatures of inactive Innocences being protected by Hevlaska that he felt underneath his feet.

Overall, it was a lot more like the second Headquarters from Allen's time and/or universe.

Timeverse?  

Ugh. Whatever.

That’s a stupid name, but it’s the best he’s got.

Allen glanced at Kanda, or BaKanda he supposed, to find him watching him intently.

…Does he have blood on his face or is he just being creepy?

Allen tried, for a moment, to remember if he got any Akuma blood on his face, and if not, just who's or what's blood it was, before he sensed two oncoming Innocences, one of them the one that should feel familiar, and discreetly wiped his face, just in case.

Komui and Lenalee Lee entered the entrance hall, and Allen glanced around for another person before he realized the Innocence signature was coming from Komui himself.

What the hell?

He hadn’t changed anything so far as far as he knew. But he _was_ in an alternate universe where there were literal demons and other supernatural creatures to go along with all the other problems.

Kandā was a glowing _plant_ , for chrissakes.

And hadn’t that been a surprise. He’d read about Iyasii before, of course. It was a bit relevant to his current situation. But most of Cross’s books stated that the Iyasā were thought to be extinct, as most of them were thought to be extinct. They were said to be very magic reliant creatures, feeding off of magic and producing magic in return, and with the theorized decline in magic over the years, plus the hate crimes that destroyed the homes that sheltered them from winter, they had quickly faded into history.

But Allen supposed, with the second Exorcist project and all, anything could happen if you added science, magic, and desperation to the mix.

Not that Allen planned on knitting Kandā a sweater any time soon.

(Not that he knew how to knit, or anything. The knitting needles he used for his mediums were _purely_ for practical purposes).

He met the eyes of Lenalee Lee. Smiling purple eyes and the sound of laughter from the past overlayed the future. Agonized screaming rang in his ears, the smell of burnt and blackened flesh permeating his nose, choking down his throat as he breathed the smoke filled air.

He blinked, and it faded. This Lenalee's eyes looked at him far too seriously and unfamiliarly to be his Lenalee. To be the Lenalee he loved and cherished. So, just as this Kanda would be Kandā, this Lenalee would be Lena.

He still loved them. But they weren't the same.

Lena is currently looking at him, puzzled. Allen realized he had been staring off into space right at her.

Allen sighed, rubbing the back of his head. He sent an apologetic glance at Komui. “I'm sorry. It's been a quite a long day.”

Komui looked surprised, and then smiled. “It's quite alright. An Exorcist's job is a taxing one.”

Allen rubbed the back or his head again, wishing he could run it through the length of his hair to relieve stress, but it was being pinned up by his mediums in a bun, with a few stray hairs escaping to trail down his neck. He scratched at his cheek instead, embarrassed and sheepish. “Thank you.” He said sincerely. _Thanks for always being so supportive. I’m sure a lot more Exorcists would have died without you stepping in._

Allen smiled, he reached out his right hand, though he knew it was the wrong one, he still couldn’t get over the pervading sense of wrongness (fear) when other’s touched his left hand. “My name’s Allen Walker.” Timcanpy got up from where he’d been sitting on Allen’s shoulder, nudging Allen’s cheek insistently. “And this is Timcanpy. He’s Master Cross’s golem.” Timcanpy puffed up with misplaced pride at that comment.

Komui doesn’t look perturbed, smiling in a friendly manner, reaching out with his left hand to shake. “Komui Lee, Head of the European Branch.”

“Nice to meet you,” Allen said, searching Komui for an Innocence. He doesn’t see one, so he supposes either he left it somewhere (unlikely) or he’s parasitic.

“This is my sister Lenalee, and I suppose you’ve already met Kanda.” Komui said, gesturing from person to person.

Allen’s mouth quirked into an amused smile. “I never got his name, actually.”

Komui’s mouth quirked up. “Ah,” He said. “Well, if you’ll follow me?” He gestured further inside.

Allen agreed, and they departed for Komui’s office, Komui offering to give him a tour later.

They entered the office, and Allen was amused sad to see that it was the same as always, papers covering every square inch of the floor and the stacks of paperwork piled up waiting to be signed. There was yet another Rose Cross emblem on a tapestry on the wall far wall, and Allen’s skin crawled with the weight of an invisible stare. Komui gestured to the couch, and Allen waited until BaKanda and Lena sat, sitting next to Lena.

“Alright, the letter, Kanda.” Komui asked, holding out a hand.

Kandā retrieves the letter, Allen unable to tell where he was even keeping it from his movements, and hands it over, Komui breaking the seal and unfolding the letter.

An anxious tension circulates through the room in the time Komui takes to read the letter, and it's a tension Allen shares.

He has no idea what will be sprung into motion after this.

All he can hope is that it's to the benefit of his own plans.

After all, if you’ve gone back in time, back to the very beginning, back to the start of it all, where none of your friends are dead, why not go all out? Why not change it all?

It might be jumping the gun a bit, but if Allen was anything, he was reckless.

Well, more like manipulative, cynical, and bitter, but you get the point.

Komui’s scanning eyes got to the end of the letter, his eyes widening the more he reads. Komui looked up and stared at Allen with wide, hopeful eyes for a moment, before his face became grave, and he leveled them all with a serious look.

“Gather all Exorcists for a meeting in the rec room. We’ll be covering a debriefing on new intel on the Clan of Noah.”


	2. Meetings and Missions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavi gets christened with a nickname (twice), meetings are held and adjourned, suspicions about a certain Beansprout arise, and a new mission pops up that leaves our timetraveller awash in confusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heey, I'm back!
> 
> Here's chapter 2, along with some trigger warnings for y'all. Tell me if I missed something in the comments.
> 
> Trigger Warnings: PTSD, fl*shb*cks, a word involving pr*gn*ncy is used, d*scr*min*tion and h*te cr*mes are mentioned(though not shown), w*r, ch*ld sold*ers, body dysphor*a, physical assault of an adult against a child,(though nothing more serious).

The Exorcists slowly trickled into the room, one by one, or coming in by pairs. The rec room itself was quite cozy; red leather couches with fluffy blankets thrown over the back, well worn recliners and armchairs; dark wooden side tables with rings from persperated drinks and well worn scratches, a sinfully soft wine red carpet under his feet, as well as various things scattered about that must belong to the Exorcists.

There was a pile of books at the foot of one end table as well as taking up part of a couch as well as a recliner, what appeared to be a scrapbooking project taking up one end table, potted plants in every corner of the room, one of them appearing to have been shattered by a slashed up soccer ball, and an ipod with purple earbuds laying on one arm of the couch.

There was also another Rose Cross emblem in the room, painted right on the wall, and Allen resisted the urge to glare at it. That would only cause more problems.

As for the Exorcists themselves, well, there were some very familiar faces.

Klaude Nyne strode in on dangerously sharp high heels, her gaze icy, and she didn’t deign to meet anyone’s eyes as she sat down elegantly in the lone armchair, crossing her legs at the knee, somehow managing to look imposing, despite the kitten themed blanket thrown on the back of the chair.

Allen sensed the Innocence he didn’t recognize, along with Marie’s, like a calm pool of water with notes of a harp playing in the background. This one was bright and vibrant, glowing like the sun, and with each pulse of light Allen heard the ringing of a bell.

A boy with wild black hair, wearing a skirt with soft pink lipstick as well as some sort of purple clown makeup, which endeared the boy to Allen greatly, came in dribbling a soccerball, laughing at the trailing Marie.

“C’mon Marie! It was just the one time! I’m sure he’s not still mad about it!” The boy said.

Allen looked from the current soccerball being dribbled rather expertly by the boy’s feet, to the slashed up one that had met its demise near the destroyed potted plant. His eyebrows raised.

Marie sighed. “Daisa…”

Sadness pierced Allen’s heart at the name. And suddenly he was at Headquarters attending a closed casket funeral, where Kanda refused to cry and stood still as stone, silent tears running down Marie’s face as they put an Exorcist Allen had never gotten the chance to meet into the ground and started to shovel.

Allen blinked it away.

Allen looked up, only to find Daisa’s eyes fixed on him with a grin. He kicked the soccerball, and it ricocheted off of three couches and one recliner like a pinball machine, before losing momentum and spinning out on the carpet.

Daisa strode over with a confident ease and plopped down beside Allen. “So! You’re new. Who’d you come from?” Daisa asked curiously.

Marie sat down across from them and gave Daisa an exasperatedly fond look. Marie looked over at Allen and said, “Don’t mind him. He has no manners. I’m Marie. This is Daisa.” He said with a smile.

Allen smiled and dipped his head. “It’s nice to meet you. My name’s Allen Walker.”

Daisa bounced in his seat, impatient. Allen turned to look at him. “So?” Daisa asked, eyebrows wriggling with a trickster’s smile.

Allen laughed, and said, expression souring, “my Master is General Cross Marian.”

Daisa’s jaw dropped. Even Marie lifted an eyebrow.

“Oh? So that’s what that man has been up to.” Klaude commented, a note of disdain in her voice as she casually examined her fingernails.

Allen nodded. “Yes, sir.” Allen said, on automatic, because he knew Klaude hated being called “ma’am”, and because he couldn’t exactly call her “General” considering she’s walked in in civilian clothes.

Daisa gave him a weird look, however Klaude looked toward him, pleased.

Just then, Lau Jimin woke up from his nap around Klaude’s shoulders. He yawned and stretched, and Allen smiled fondly. After Klaude had died, Allen had taken care of the distraught primate, and they had ended up bonding enough to synchronize. To make a long story short, he had some very fond memories of the shapeshifting primate.

The white monkey blinked, and then looked directly at Allen. He gave an excited hoo-hoo-ha and leaped from Klaude’s shoulders and onto Allen’s lap.

“Hey, buddy,” Allen said, then, suddenly remembering that Lau Jimin is not his Innocence anymore, looked up at Klaude, who was watching them closely, and asked, “Do you mind if I…?”

Klaude sniffed. “Lau Jimin is his own creature. I will not regulate who he spends time with.”

Allen nodded. “Of course.” He smiled and began running his hands through Lau’s fur, scratching behind the ears and at the base of the tail. Lau practically melted at all the attention, chittering in happiness as he curled up in Allen’s lap.

This was, of course, at the point where Timcanpy got jealous. He wriggled himself out of Allen’s shirt and onto his shoulder and “graah”ed at Lau, teeth bared. Lau got into a sitting position, leaning weight on his hands, as primates do, as they stared at each other.

For a moment Allen thought it would come to blows, but then Lau darted in and slapped Timcanpy on the face, and then bolted in the other direction, Timcanpy in hot pursuit.

As one, Allen and Klaude both looked at each other, amused.

Allen sensed a familiar Innocence signature, the smell of an old library with a ripped up book sitting abandoned on a desk, crackling flames reaching their greedy fingers to consume it.

Allen used to like that signature. Now, the smell of the smoke made him feel sick.

There’s another signature right after the first one, one that made Allen angry every time he felt it. The scent of flowers, and a lotus flower floating in an hourglass, slowly shedding all of its petals before it falls to the bottom, wilted and lifeless.

“What was all that about?” Lavi asked curiously, going over to sit down next to Daisa, entwining their fingers together.

Allen blinked. That had certainly never happened in the previous timeverse. Examining Lavi, he looked a bit pale, and when he grinned at Daisa, Allen saw fangs.

And Lavi definitely hadn’t been a vampire last time he saw him.

He’ll have to work on the nickname, though. Nothing’s really coming to him, except maybe Bookman Jr., which doesn’t feel right for some reason.

He’ll take what he’s got for now, at least until he can come up with something better.

Daisa grinned at him, scooching closer until their legs touched, and said, “I think the General’s weird monkey just initiated tag with a golem.”

Lavi threw his head back and laughed, while Kandā stalked in and threw himself into the seat next to Marie, somehow making the move look graceful.

Allen frowned at him, and Kandā turned and glared. “What are you looking at, Beansprout?” He snapped.

 _“Beansprout?”_ Lavi interjected, then shared a look with Daisa, and, as one, they both burst into laughter.

“Your ugly face,” Allen snapped back.

Kandā smirked. “Well I’m not the one who looks like a wimpy old man.”

Allen bristled. “Well at least I’m not the one who has hair as long as a girl’s!”

Kandā bristled.

They both stood and grabbed a fistful of each other’s shirts, though Kandā’s tore underneath Allen’s fingers.

“Old man hair!”

“Girly!”

“You two, cut it out!” A familiar voice said, and Allen felt a familiar knock on the head and hands, calloused from fighting, unlock his hand from around Kandā’s shirt.

Allen blinked, the anger fading. He smiled sheepishly at Lenalee, rubbing the back of his head. “Sorry, Lena.” He said.

The stern look on her face morphed to surprise, before her face gentled, something about her becoming almost… warmer. She smiled, earfins flaring in what Allen thought must be pleasure, and said, “It’s fine, really. Brother would just be mad at me if I just sat back and enjoyed the chaos.” She said, with a shark-toothed grin.

Allen laughed. “Chaos can be fun in the right circumstances.” He agreed.

Kandā huffed. “You two are idiots.”

“Not as dumb as you,” Allen shot back, and Kandā glared.

Lenalee laughed. “Come on, Allen, let’s go sit by those two lovebirds.” She jerked her head to where Bookman Jr. and Daisa were sitting on the couch.

They sat, though Lena seem a bit uncomfortable until Allen asked if she was okay. She seemed to settle after that.

Allen wasn’t unaware of Lena’s differences, and her inability to hide them; he just didn’t care. Halfbloods were a lot more common than people thought; Allen had seen plenty of them in the Shanties, with no place left to call home but a broken down shack. Lena’s differences certainly weren’t so different as some ones he’d seen; claws on her hands and likely her feet, sharp fang-like teeth, slitted pupils, green scaled earfins on the side of her face tipped in gold in lieu of human ears, a long, whip-like tail covered in green scales with golden stippling that had clued Allen in along with the earfins that she was of the Dracaris species.

Some people made a big deal out of it, even their own species discriminating against them, parents throwing their children to the curb when the hate and discrimination became too much. Luckily it didn’t seem to be like that between Lena and Komui, and for that, Allen was grateful.

Still, he’ll have to watch Lena closely. If some jerks got the wrong idea, Allen wanted to be there in case Lena couldn’t handle it herself. Granted, Allen knew that Lena could take care of herself; she defended an entire ship from a Level Three Akuma and came out of the mess with the first documented crystalized Innocence.

Still, it doesn’t make him want to protect her from discriminatory jerks any less.

With any human with the legal right to walk up and enact violent hate crimes on any member of the supernatural race; and with each member of the supernatural race barcoded and put under the supernatural registry, it was rather hard to hide, especially for the ones who couldn’t use glamour.

Allen fingered his wrist absentmindedly, tracing the lines tattooed into his skin.

Allen blinked to attention as Komui walked in with Suman and Bookman in tow, and they all sat, Komui and Bookman sitting across from Lena and Bookman Jr. while Suman takes a recliner.

Komui clapped his hands. “Alright, let’s get started.”

 

* * *

 

Before they got anything started, the couches and chairs had to be rearranged all in a circle, the only reason Komui giving for this being the oblique answer, “atmosphere”, Allen deciding to help out with his superior strength to get the job done that much quicker. Now it felt like everyone was staring at him, waiting for him to start, a heavy, expectant atmosphere in the air.

 _‘Neah?’_ Allen asked, nervous.

 **_“Everything will be fine, Allen. Just like we practiced, remember?”_ ** Neah said encouragingly, yawning tiredly before rolling over and looking around idly, blinking tiredly.

Allen smiled, comforted and amused. _‘Go back to sleep, Neah.’_

Neah grumbled before subsiding, settling down into sleep.

There was the sound of someone clearing their throat, and Allen looked up to see Komui giving him a patient look. “Allen, if you could start the debriefing?” Yes, that would be good. If only he knew where to begin.

Suman gave Allen a judgemental look. “This _child_ is the one with the intel? Not Klaude?” Oh. Well. At least someone hadn’t been expecting him to have all the answers.

But still… “I’m eighteen!” Allen objected. Seriously, he can’t look _that_ young, can he?

Kandā snorted. “Yeah, right.” Jerk.

Allen scowled. He was seventeen, actually. Master had insisted on two extra years of training in magic, fighting, as well as… other stuff. He needed to be prepared for the years ahead, and waking up as Master’s apprentice at the age of thirteen, he certainly wasn’t.

He knew he was a bit small for his age. Probably only a little taller than he was at sixteen, because his glamour liked to fuck with him, apparently.

He had thought it might mess with the timeline to arrive late, but apparently, not much had happened while he had been gone or occupied saving the Shanties. Alternate timeverses, you just never know.

But the reason he was claiming he was eighteen was because that was what his totally _not_ forged citizen’s ID said so he could play poker without getting arrested for underage gambling.

Well. In theory.

He’d never actually been caught, yet.

Komui nodded, looking at Suman critically. “Yes, Suman. Allen and General Cross have gathered important intel on the Clan of Noah, and have ordered a closed meeting between all of the Exorcists.” Ah, reliable Komui. You can always trust him to be on your side. Well, unless if it comes to Lena. Then, you’re fucked.

“Then where’s the General?” Bookman Jr. asked, his Innocence signature crackling with excitement. Allen supposed this must be a pretty big deal for the Bookmen. Either they didn’t share all of the information they had about the Noah, or their information was as limited as Bookman said it was. Either way, knowing there’s another person with potentially that much info that is about to be handing it out freely to the Order must really have their Bookmen senses tingling.

“I will be acting in his stead.” Allen said, with a smile. Read into that what you may. He doesn’t really care either way so long as they went along with it.

Not everyone looked too happy at that. Suman looked like he’d swallowed a lemon, Marie had a worried frown on his face, Daisa looked concerned, and Bookman looked pensive though perhaps not particularly displeased. Allen could guess that Marie just didn’t like the pressure that was being put on Allen, and judging by Daisa’s concern Allen guessed it was similar to that. Suman was easy to pin down, as he had a young daughter still at home; he probably disapproved of what he perceived as children fighting in a war they had no place in. As for Bookman, who knew what was going on in his head; other than his loyalties to the Bookman Clan and his fondness for Lavi Allen had found him particularly hard to read.

Allen pulled himself out of his thoughts and took a deep breath. A starting point would be... “So, to begin… There are thirteen members of the Clan of Noah, though there used to be a fourteen.” Careful, careful here, with a living lie detector in the room.

Lavi’s and Komui’s eyes lit up with interest, Lena perking up, sitting up straighter in her seat. Marie turned his head to the side, ear pointed toward him, Kandā flicking his eyes toward him while otherwise trying to look disinterested. Allen took a deep breath and let it out, trying to calm his racing heart. “That past member is currently deceased.” Not really a lie, Neah _was_ deceased, it was just a certain someone else who was still breathing.

As if awakened by word alone, something near his stomach shifted and then stretched, letting out a loud yawn. It perked up with interest at what was going on around it, it’s dark purple energy vibrating with interest and curiosity.

It stretched like a cat, idly sharpening its claws, before it settled down to wait, watching the proceedings with rabid interest.  

Allen grabbed his chin in his gloved right hand, ignoring Neah's antics. Now. “How to explain this…”

Allen sighed. “The first thing you need to know is that the Noah didn’t start out as inherently evil. In fact, I’d say they did some good before the fourteenth Noah became deceased.” Before everything went wrong.

Kandā snorted. “Right.” He said sarcastically. Shut your face before I shut it for you, Kandā.

“What proof do you have of this?” Lavi asked. Ha. He’d been waiting for this question. Allen smirked inwardly, and Allen said, “Timcanpy, page #147 of _Cryptozoology and Bibliomancy_ , please.” Kandā snorted at the ridiculously convoluted name, but was silenced when Timcanpy opened his mouth, and an obscure text that could only partially be read, some parts underlined by Allen’s own hand, came up holographically projected out of Tim’s mouth.

Everyone read as quickly as possible, Lavi’s eye in particular devouring the holographic image, and as soon as he was finished, much more quickly than the others, his eye lit up with intrigue. He turned to Allen, and Allen could see theories and questions being birthed behind his eye. Allen waited for everyone else to finish reading before he continued. “There are several references in this text of the Noah family having a ‘paradise’, that was, ‘the source of all magic’, however-”

“If that’s true, why has magic been declining for years?” Lavi asked, his whole demeanor curious but his gaze calculating. He was fully in Bookman mode.

It was true. Since about thirty-five years previous, magic had started to decline, less power in people’s spells, less children born with the gift, magic seemingly disappearing from the world.

Luckily, Allen had, some of an answer, for this too.

“The DoD for the fourteenth Noah? Thirty-five years ago.” Komui sucked in a sharp breath, and Kandā’s eyes narrowed. Allen said, shrugging, “It overlaps. Only a few months after his death, people began noticing a decline in magic around the world.”

Kandā examined him, as if looking for lies, and Allen caught Komui glance at Marie and then whisper something too soft for him to catch. Marie nodded slightly, then paused, and sat up and rolled his shoulders, as if stretching them. Shit. Allen continued, hoping the pause hadn’t been noticeable. “Whatever the Noah once were, what they are now is what matters.”

Komui nodded. “Of course. Please continue, Allen.”

And so Allen did.

 

* * *

 

By the time the meeting was over, Allen felt thoroughly drained. Words and information bounced around inside his head, and he rubbed it, trying to get rid of the ache.

“Are you okay?” Lenalee asked, walking up to him.

Allen smiled at her reassuringly. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Lena frowned doubtfully. “Well, if you’re sure.” She grinned, shark-like. “Komui’s assigned Lavi to take you on a tour of the Order.”

She turned and began striding out of the room, throwing over her shoulder, “Have fun! See you later!”

Allen laughed. “Yeah, see you later!”

Allen smiled, watching her and others drift out of the room. Komui, Marie, and Kandā seemed to have disappeared off somewhere. This made Allen’s senses prickle. If there was anyone among the Exorcists who would have cause to have suspicion about him, it would be Marie and Kandā. Well, and the Bookmen, but they usually kept their own council on matters.

“So!” Said a familiar voice right behind him, and Allen just about jumped ten feet in the air. Damn vampires and their soundless feet.

Allen turned and found Lavi grinning at him, Daisa filming with his phone behind him with a huge grin on his face. “How would you like to get a free bite to eat?” Lavi said while doing his best ‘Dracula’ impression, leaning in and tapping his fingers together, while giving a good display of his fangs.

Daisa fell over howling with laughter, and Allen grinned and said, “free food? Of course I’ll go!”

Daisa laughed harder, no longer able to hold the phone up. He turned off the recording.

Lavi grinned. “C’mon, let’s take you on that tour, and then we’ll figure out what’s for dinner!”

 

* * *

 

Marie and Kanda sat in Komui’s office, Komui leveling them both with a serious look. Kanda sat slouched in his seat, wondering what was so damn important they had been pulled aside right after the meeting.

Though, to be honest, he could make a fair guess.

He and Marie, both being the type to sense either the emotions or the validity of others, would notice right away if something was off with one Allen Walker.

And wasn't that just the million dollar question.

He had dismissed it, at first, the slew of emotions the Beansprout had felt upon meeting Kanda.

But when the same thing had happened with Lenalee and Lavi, he knew something was up. Just what that something was, however, was questionable at best and suspicious at worse.

Kanda, of course, was first inclined towards suspicion.

“So,” Komui said, lacing his fingers together in front of him, “what are your thoughts on the matter?”

Kanda grunted and leaned back, and Marie rightly took this as his cue to go first. “He did not directly lie about anything,” Marie stated, shifting as if uncomfortable.

“But?” Komui pressed, eyes narrowing.

“But he was nervous,” Marie said, and then hesitated for a moment before he said, “and it seemed to me, almost, as if he was dancing around the truth. Lying without lying.”

Komui frowned, concern written all over his face. “Is such a thing even possible?”

Marie nodded, rubbing his face tiredly. “Unfortunately yes. Though the only person alive at the moment who has demonstrated the ability is General Cross Marian.”

Kanda snorted, crossing his arms. “That just makes him even more suspect.”

Komui nodded, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Considering his origins I would have to agree.”

Komui turned to Kanda, his eyes sharp. “Your observations, Kanda?”

Kanda suddenly knew, with a gripping certainty, that whatever the outcome of this meeting, it would most likely be extremely unpleasant for a certain Beansprout.

 

* * *

 

After Bookman Jr. and Daisa had given him the tour, (which consisted of  Lavi and Daisa flirting half of the time, and Lavi talking his ear off the other half while Daisa threw in ‘helpful’ quips about this and that. Brought together, the two Exorcists were like toddlers in the Terrible Twos.) Allen decided it was time for bed.

He climbed the spiralling staircase in the corner of the rec room that led upwards towards the Exorcist’s quarters; following the names on the plaque by each door until he found the one labelled “Walker, Allen”. To his disgust, “Kanda, Yuu” sat right beside his, though at least Marie and Daisa were beside BaKanda’s room, and Bookman and Bookman Jr.’s were across from them, as well as Suman. Down the very far end of the hall were the suites where the Generals slept; and branching off from their hallway was another hallway where the female Exorcists slept, though empty except for Lena considering Klaude’s status as a General.

Allen figured that would change soon considering the intel he had given about Miranda’s and Krory’s Innocence.

Shaking his head to clear it, he entered his room and immediately blanched at the Rose Cross embossed upon the wall. Figures. He’s not even safe from eyes and ears in his own quarters. But maybe he could explain away painting over it with a bout of redecorating.

With a sigh, Allen collapsed onto his comfy bed, making a resolution to sleep and not dream. For a while, he tossed and turned, before getting up and sitting at his writing desk, pulling out a leaf of paper and writing down Lavi's name.

He switched some letters around, until he was finally happy with the result. Obliterating the page to nothing with a blast of magic between his fist, Allen yawned, finally feeling tired enough to sleep. Shrugging out of unneeded clothing, he collapsed onto his mattress, wishing for dreamless sleep.

 

* * *

 

At first, Allen thought he was dreaming. He was walking back to his and Master’s current haunt after earning enough money cheating it off of the rich or unwary, walking through the streets of a bazaar, the scent of incense and meat cooked directly off of the fire making his mouth water.

The streets were cobbled and relatively clean. People’s houses, more like straw and wooden huts, passed him by as he walked. The cool night air played against his skin, rustling through the nearby trees. There were nighttime buskers playing music in the streets; their melodies drifted pleasantly through the air, and Allen stopped to drop a few coins into a hat in appreciation when he felt it.

A prickling of awareness down his spine. The fear of the hunted.

He took off at an unhurried pace through the crowd, and it was only then that he noticed how much bigger the people around him were. They were practically giants compared to him.

Just how old was he?

The last thing he remembered was…

The book.

The spell.

Nearly dying in his cell from the strain of the spell on his body.

Then…

“Neah?!” He whispered, slightly panicked.

Something in his gut moved and shifted, and then gave a ginormous stretch, like a sleeping cat awakening from a deep sleep.

 **_“Allen?”_ ** Neah’s voice answered, though he sounded… different, somehow. **_“Are you alright? Did it work?”_ **

“I’m not sure…” Allen said, glancing around. He stopped in his tracks when a woman wearing nothing but a shirt came by. And that was understandable, considering that her legs seemed to be rather occupied with being a snake’s tail. Allen looked around for other people’s reactions, but they just seemed to go about their business as if this were perfectly normal.  

And that was when a large hand grabbed him by the shoulder, turning him around and slamming him up against the wall of a hut, Allen’s back crying out in protest as all of the air was pushed from his lungs. It was a man from before that Allen had conned, and inwardly he winced.

Outwardly he smiled, while reaching for the knife sheathed at his hip. “What can I do for you today, sir?” Allen asked politely.

 _“You can be my dinner!”_ The man said, mouth opening and unhinging unnaturally wide as his fangs flashed, going for Allen’s neck.

Allen pulled the knife free and slashed it across the man’s face. He reared back with a hiss, his skin smoking and sizzling in the moonlight.

Following an instinct Allen couldn’t control, he dropped to the ground and started to run, heart beating like a drumbeat in his chest, sounds and smells enhanced as he dodged around the pedestrians on the street, just one desperate thought on his mind, _home home home home._

He came upon a rented out flat that pinged at something in his memory. His pastself’s memory? The kid whose body he’s currently hijacking? God, he doesn’t know, this is all so messed up.

He wanted to go home, not whatever fucked up place this is.

He hesitated at the door, breath steaming out in the cold night air. But somehow, he’s still warm.

What if the person behind that door isn’t even Master? What then? Will he leave, or will he be forced to stay with some relative stranger that had no known motives for picking him up from the graveyard that day.

Mana…

He’d been hoping to come back even earlier than this, to before he made Mana an Akuma. Now, knowing he’s not… actually dead, that he never actually died that day, even if he was… different, he could have made the right choice, righted his wrongs; fixed what he’d done to Mana and stopped it before it even began, cursed eye be damned.

He whined, head lowering and ears flattening. Allen stiffened, suddenly aware of several things wrong with his current bodily configuration. Before he could take the proper course in which to freak the fuck out, the door to the flat swung inwards, and Cross Marian, wearing a jade green t-shirt and black boxers, peered around the doorframe, Judgement in hand.

Upon seeing the somehow shapeshifted Allen, (seriously, _what the fuck_ ), he let his guard down a bit, and said, “Come on in, kid.”

Allen padded in, a bit uncomfortable now that he knew he was in a body that wasn’t his. A feeling of self-disgust rose as his claws clicked on the wooden floor, and he shook himself, fluffing up his fur, trying to get the heavy feeling of his pelt to disappear.

A wave of something that could only be called _energy_ washed over Allen when he stepped through the doorway, and he felt it evaluate and then accept him, and he passed through, fur standing on end.

“Alright, brat, off to bed. It’s way too fucking early to be awake right now.”

Allen ‘boofed’ in agreement, but… which room was his? Taking a deep breath through his nose, he followed the scent of citrus and fur to what he hoped was his bedroom.

When he hopped up on the bed, he was out like a light.

 

* * *

 

Luckily, whatever had happened the night before to make him transform wore off by daylight, which gave Allen the opportunity to dive into research.

This world was… a lot different than his own. The history seemed to be the same in some areas, but where it differed it widely changed the culture of today. People were encouraged to dress how they wanted to dress, to date who they wanted to date, to be who they wanted to be.

But that was about where the freedom ended. At least, for people like him. Currently, most of the world lived under a totalitarian state of rule, where people either lived in complete idolization of the Pope, or fear of being singled out by the secret police force for speaking out or being disloyal. And people like Allen? Supernatural creatures like him? Were barcoded and regulated, put into the Supernatural Registry, with no laws or protections over them from the discriminatory public.

And if you were useful to them, you didn’t have a say in where you went.

And if you made a mistake, and then you weren’t, well…

His studies continued until Master found him and asked him why he was reading, “that boring old drivel,” and took it out of Allen’s hands and set down something that appeared much more interesting than what he had been reading before; a book on magic.

Allen couldn’t make heads or tails of it, as it was much too advanced; so, while Master slept, he crept into the library and began catching up to where he was supposed to be a few hours every night, until the more advanced books began to make sense and words like, “medium”, “magical backlash”, “Soul Name”, and “leftover magical residue”, began to make sense.

He knew Cross was not unaware of his studies; he watched Allen with somber eyes, and his drinking habits began to increase, to the point where Allen began to feel concerned.

It all came to a head one evening, when Allen and Cross were fighting a swarm of Akuma, and Allen's Innocence decided it was time to become a zero point breaker, all at once, right there in front of Cross.

After the Akuma were destroyed Cross immediately turned Judgement on Allen, his eyes hard. “Explain. Now.”

Allen's breath caught in his throat. “I-” How could he? How could he explain that he'd killed his Allen and taken his place?

That in his timeline, Master had died?

In the end, Master made the decision for him. His fingers dart out, drawing a familiar rune above Allen's forehead, but before Allen could defend himself, he found there was another presence inside his mind, flashing through memory after memory like a slideshow. The presence reeled back from some of it, clearly confused but determined to find answers. It finally pulled back, satisfied, and Allen blinked, looking up at Master warily.

Cross put Judgement away and laid a hand on his hip. If Allen didn't know better he'd say he seemed relieved. “Okay, brat. I want you to tell me _everything_. Start from the beginning, and then we'll see where you begin this time around.”

And so they planned.

 

* * *

 

Allen awoke with a start, shivers of anger and helplessness tracking their way down his spine, and he swallowed down nausea, running his hands along his arms.

Shaking his head to rid himself of the nightmare, he checked the clock and saw it was about time he got up anyway. Well, the usual time, being one to three in the morning. It seemed even in the Order, that wouldn't change.

Getting up out of bed, Allen started his morning calisthenics. He'd seen a fitting chair in the lounge room on the second floor, so, quickly getting dressed for a workout, he entered the lounge and started up his routine.

He knew there was a gym, however he preferred complete privacy.

When he was finished, he decided to hit the baths.

Walking down the spiralling staircase with spare clothes and toiletries in hand, Allen entered the baths to find them already occupied by one Kandā Yuu.

The baths were just as glorious as Lavi had described them. Steam filled the air, the open area of the cave shining with the light of the moon from a hole in the ceiling overhead. The cave walls were lined with shelves of different bath and body products, and the pool of water in the middle emitting steam and froth looked delightfully warm.

If only one Kandā Yuu was not there.

Kanda lifted an unimpressed eyebrow. “Are you going to get in, or are you going to keep standing there like a dead fish with its mouth open?”

Allen bristled. “If I'm a dead fish, you're a dead porcupine, BaKanda!” He began to undress, and quickly slipped into the water before he could change his mind, refusing to meet Kandā's eyes.

The water was delightfully warm and soothed all the aches in his back, but despite that, he couldn’t relax. He felt his shoulders hunch, despite his attempts to appear unbothered. His heart started beating faster, and he tried to put himself as low in the water as possible to hide his arm and his chest.

Kanda huffed, and Allen heard the splash of water as Kanda stepped out of the pool and the rustle of fabric as he began to dry off. Allen only looked once Kandā addressed him. Fully dressed in the Black Order uniform, his back turned toward him as he strode towards the exit, long petal-like hair spilling down his shoulders, a faint glow emanating from his form. “Meet me in Komui’s office once you’re done acting stupid. We’ve got a mission.” He threw over his shoulder. With that, he strode out of the room.

Allen, feeling annoyed, glared at his retreating back. He gave a sigh of relief however once he was alone, and began washing in earnest, hoping to get out of there before anyone else walked in. He made sure to wash extra carefully at the runes carved into his skin. Most were just scars by now, but a recent one, carved right over his heart.

Luckily, because of the early hour, Allen got his wish. He got out and dried off, putting his binder on as well as his black and pinkish-red Exorcist uniform that he had picked up from Johnny that morning; Allen smiled sadly. Johnny’s measurements were just as accurate as always.

Once he was done with his hair, he strode from the baths and made his way to Komui’s office.

He swore, if Kandā outed him to Lena or Rabi, he would…

Well, let’s just say, it wouldn’t be pleasant.

Opening the door on squeaky hinges, four people looked up at his approach.

Allen is met face to face with Froi Tiedoll, and meeting those kind, understanding eyes, Allen is again choked by the grief they had both felt at the deaths of his two apprentices.

But not this Tiedoll, Allen reminded himself. This Tiedoll hasn’t felt that fresh grief, and hopefully never will.

Allen took a deep breath and walked into the room, sitting down, unfortunately between Kandā and Lena, General Tiedoll leaning against the wall while Komui sat in his usual desk chair.

Allen couldn’t help but notice that Kandā seemed overly irritated, and he smirked a little. _Aww, poor Kandā. Does too much affection make you uncomfortable?_

Kanda turned and glared at him. “ _What?”_ He snapped.

Allen’s grin turned wider. “Nothing, nothing.”

Kandā scowled. “Well, go do your ‘nothing’ somewhere else!” He growled, irritated.

Allen snorted, not angry for once, and turned to Komui. “So what’s the mission, Komui?”

Komui sighed and rubbed his forehead, as if there was an ache there, and said, “I think the General can answer that better than me.”

Allen frowned, as if confused, and General Tiedoll stepped forward with his hand out to shake, introducing himself with a warm smile, “My name is Froi Tiedoll. I’m a General of the Black Order, but don’t pay that any mind. I’d rather be your friend than your commander, even if it is different out in the field.”

Allen was forced to shake with his left hand, so even as he said, “My name’s Allen Walker. It’s nice to meet you.” Shivers of an old fear were travelling down his spine, his mind racing in fight or flight just in case he _sees-_

He let go, and Allen felt like he could breathe again.

Tiedoll was looking at Allen with an unconcealed concern, and even Kandā was eyeing him as if he was about to spontaneously combust. Lena and Komui looked confused yet concerned, as if there was obviously something to be concerned about if both Kandā and Tiedoll were.

It clicked. Kandā could read people’s emotions, at least in Allen’s timeverse, and who’s to say that’s any different here? And unless he was a natural, who else could he have learned it from but from Tiedoll?

He can’t believe he’d forgotten. How much had Kandā already picked up on and passed along to Komui? Shit, they can both probably read his emotions right now.

Shaking his head to clear it, Allen asked, “So, what's the new mission?”

Tiedoll watched him for a moment more, before he cleared his throat and stepped back. “Well, I suppose it all started on a cloudy day in Germany.”

Kandā lifted an eyebrow, leg crossed over his knee.

Lenalee sat slightly forward, a serious look on her face.

Allen frowned, thoughtful.

_Germany, huh? Sounds promising._

“I had been going to where a friend of mine lives… a nice girl, though with terribly low confidence in herself. But when I arrived upon where the city once was, the only thing left to be found were fields upon fields of grain, without a townsperson in sight.”

Kanda narrowed his eyes. Lenalee sat forward, a sharp look in her eye.

Outwardly, Allen clenched his fists, a determined look in his eye.

Inwardly, he thought, _…What?!_

“I tried asking others if they had seen the town disappear, only to be rebuffed. It is no longer on any map that I can find, nor mentioned in any newspaper articles that it once was.”

Lenalee’s eyes widened in shock, her earfins flaring.

Kanda scowled, his glow turning brighter in agitation, the scent of lotus flowers growing stronger in the room.

Allen bared his teeth, his magic buzzing angrily under his skin. He wilted, grieving all over again for Miranda.

It’s like she’s been wiped from existence. Does that mean Miranda was no longer alive? Will he have to grieve for her once again, this time, without even a grave? Or… and this seems a foolish hope, could it be something to do with her Innocence again?

He took a deep breath.

For Miranda’s and the townspeople’s sake, he firmly hopes so.

Kandā was looking at him again, but Allen ignored it. Tiedoll was still talking.

“On a hunch, I asked a fellow magic user if they had noticed the town disappear. However, I first had to establish that I meant them no harm and was a magic user myself, as apparently there was quite the opinion about the supernatural in the area. But once I did, they confirmed that they too had noticed the missing town. They had apparently tried to notify the police, but had been flagged as a prank call and rebuffed.”

“After a bit of investigating in the grain fields, I decided I could not fix this problem myself and that this anomaly was most likely the cause of Innocence or some other supernatural anomaly. Which is what brings me here.” The General finished his report, looking drawn and sad.

Allen doesn’t blame him. He’d feel the same in his situation.

Kandā leaned back in his seat and re-crossed his legs with an irritated look. “Alright, so what's this new mission, Komui?” He asked, running a hand through his dark petal-like hair. Well, hair made of petals, more like.

If Allen had to describe Kandā's petals, they'd be elegant and silky looking; glowing with a soft light. Each petal attached to another like a trellis vine to form the mass of plant life that is Kandā's hair. If he had to put a color to it, he'd say navy blue, with the ends fading to grey and then black.

“The mission,” Komui said, “is to go to that grainfield and discover whatever you can about the missing town. Now, judging by the General's intel, Brunswick and the surrounding towns are not going to be particularly supernatural friendly.” Komui said with an apologetic look.

Kandā scowled, crossing his arms over his chest, while Lena groaned, putting her head in her hands.

Allen doesn't understand for a second, until Lena put her head on her knees and stared down sadly, with an almost hateful look as she looked at her clawed fingertips.

Ah. He understood.

He rubbed at his left arm, trying to rid it off phantom pain.

Allen reached over and placed a hand on her shoulder, however she just gave him a resentful look and shrugged him off.

Ah. Well, nevermind then. (It's not like he really knew this Lenalee anyway).

Kandā sighed. “The makeup? _Again?”_ He asked irritatedly.

“I'm afraid so,” Komui replied, a bit of humor in his voice.

“Don't worry, Yuu, I'm sure they've improved the quality of the concealer by now.” Tiedoll said with a smile. Kandā simply scowled.

There was no way to comfort Lena, however.

Allen hesitated a moment, before turning away.

She didn't want his help, after all.

Komui yawned. “Your mission starts…” He checked his watch. “Now. You can sleep on the plane ride to Wendeburg. The plane will need to make a stop at France to refuel. Are there any questions?”

Everyone stared back at him tiredly. Lena yawned. Kandā tried to pretend he hadn't almost fallen asleep five seconds ago. Allen blinked blearily at Komui. The General looked delightfully unfazed by the time of day. Allen wondered how many redbulls he'd had that day.

“No? Good. Now get going, you have a plane to catch.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, the nicknaming thing.
> 
> I feel like I have to cover this, so y'all don't get confused. It's not that Allen loves these versions of his friends less than the old, it's that in his head, he still loves and cherishes his past friends as much as the ones that he has in the present. And knowing Allen, he wouldn't just leave the past behind. So, to try to stay true to the memories of his friends, he separates the new versions of his friends from the versions of them that he has in his memory.
> 
> Which is a pretty unhealthy coping mechanism, and it's only gonna get worse from here, folks. Allen's not real good at taking care of himself, so expect some shit down the road, y'all.
> 
> Don't worry, the nicknames won't last forever. As Allen adjusts to his situation he will get better at reconciling his past and his present.
> 
> Alright, Todd out!


End file.
